


R-E-S-P-E-C-T

by AnathemaAuthoress



Series: Kinktober/Goretober 2018 [1]
Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bondage, Cannibalism, Force-Feeding, Gore, Goretober, Hair-pulling, Kinktober, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Uncharacteristically dark, Violence, basically the "Zim finds out he was lied to" trope takes a bad turn, blood sport, implied possible death?, metal limbs, suffocation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 01:15:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16231154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnathemaAuthoress/pseuds/AnathemaAuthoress
Summary: Dib never thought he'd witness this callous side of Zim. He never wanted to.---Day one of Kink/Goretober mash-ups!





	R-E-S-P-E-C-T

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a week late for Kink/Goretober [I'm combining them], but I hope to catch up soon. The prompts for this fic were: Cannibalism + Blood Sport + Force Feeding 
> 
> Zadr were the victims.

Dib couldn’t fathom how the situation had gotten so out of hand so quickly. He and Zim had never been civil by any stretch of the imagination, but even in their shared repulsion for one another there had been some unspoken limits.

The human had always known his rival was dangerous, diabolical, in many cases potentially deadly, but he’d never fancied the alien a true sadist. With little exception, Zim’s most heinous crimes had been born in twisted realms of impulse interwoven with ignorance. He’d never held the dark, macabre undertones of a mortal psychology broken, or even those born of true anger and spite. Not until now.

The glint of his red eyes in the dim light of the lab were haunting. They stood out stark against a dark silhouette. Dib could scarcely see through the darkness for most of the lights had been mangled in some sort of fit. He couldn’t move either. The steel constraints wrapped around his arms and ankles kept him immobile, helplessly seated on the ground like an animal waiting to be stomped.

The little robot was nowhere to be found and Dib wondered, with concern that surprised even him, if Gir was hiding or if he too had been mangled, with parts left strewn all over like the heart of the lab.

“They don’t see my worth,” Zim said. His voice was lined with laughter just below the words, bubbling hysteria threatening to rise up and explode. The tone was something unlike anything Dib had ever heard. It was low and dangerous, palpitating with unreleased rage. “But I’ll show them. And I’ll show you, Dib.”

Zim drew closer and Dib at last could see the green hint of his flesh, darker in some places as if splotched by paint or oil. He almost wished the alien would retreat again because his expression was too raw, the lines of his features too defined and startling.

“I’ll show them what a fine invader I can be,” Zim laughed darkly. He reached out with long fingers and Dib felt that they were slick and reaked of something foul. At last the Irken pulled the gag from between Dib’s swollen lips.

The human began to cough and sputter, once he caught his breath he rasped, “Whatever you’re planning, you won’t get away with it, Zim!”

“No!” Round teeth bared in a snarl and Dib’s eyes grew wide with actual terror. “We aren’t playing that way anymore, human. You see, in allowing this game I have proven myself to be exactly what they think of me. But I can be so much more, Dib. I can be terrifying. I’m going to break you. Then I’m going to show them, so they can be afraid of me too.”

“What are you talking about? You sound insane! Let me go!” Dib began to squirm in the binds, but just like before the metal bit into his flesh and scraped painfully.

“That’s fine, Dib. You don’t have to believe me. That will just make it sweeter. Do you want to know how I know how to destroy you? I looked it up.” Zim disappeared back into the shadows as he spoke. Dib could hear a sort of squelching, like an old sponge being wrung out, or meat being packed inside a box. “Humans keep remarkable catalogues of the things they are most afraid of. Now I know we’ve touched on fear in the past, Dib, but I made a vital error. I tried to seek something truly tangible, but that isn’t what scares you most. Is it? Nooo. I think not. You’re afraid of what I can do to you. Of what you might do. I finally see.”

“This speech is real eerie and all but I really want to get home before Mysterious Myst–“ Dib’s voice caught in his throat as Zim reappeared. This time the alien stood beneath a lingering, dangling overhead light. It swayed to and fro, casted Zim in wretched, shifting shadows, but Dib could see him well enough.

The splotches were blood, more crimson and vibrant than the Irken’s eyes, splattered in irregular patterns over the lizard-like flesh and once innocent garbs. In his grasp he held a long length of beveled red flesh. It dripped as he held it out and left puddles by the alien’s boots.

“Whose intestines…” Dib swallowed back vomit at the sight and smell. It was fresh enough to still look raw, but old enough for the stench of death to build and bloom. He snapped his eyes shut to block out what he was seeing, what he was knowing. “Who do those belong to?”

“What does it matter? All humans are equally worthless.” Zim wasn’t wild or indignant, just deadpan, too serious. “But I am curious if you’ll enjoy the flavor.”

Dib’s eyes snapped open. “No way! I can’t eat that!”

“Hahaha!” Zim leaned back and opened his maw to showcase every one of his teeth and the snaking whip he called a tongue. “I’m laughing, Dib! Laughing because you don’t have a choice!”

He closed the distance between them fast and squeezed the boy’s jaw harshly until it was forced open, with his other hand he started to shove the mass down Dib’s gullet.

“Ngh!” Dib gagged at once but he couldn’t pull away. At first he couldn’t taste much because it was being shoved in so quickly. Then the acrid, coppery tinge set in and his eyes started to water. He tried to yank away, but his binds made it impossible to do more than squirm. The organ was squishy and ghastly unpleasant, but it was also surprisingly firm as if had set for a while and begun to firm up with the first signs of rigor mortis. How long had Zim been waiting?

Dib didn’t have time to muse because panic was quick acting and his face was flushing with it, making his body too hot on top of repulsed. To make matters worse, the alien moved his free hand from Dib’s jaw and wove it in the longest of hair on his head and yanked hard to hold him in place.

Unfortunately, no amount of grunting or gagging could force the organ out and Zim crammed it harder. With the Irken bracing his head, Dib couldn’t even turn his face away and the rope of flesh and blood pushed fast and hard down his throat.

He instantly lost the ability to breathe, even his nose couldn’t draw in enough and the harder he snorted and huffed the harder it got to inhale. He tried to shake lose, but nothing would help. Dib had felt some horrible things in his life, but this was at least top ten. His throat felt probed and stretched beyond its means, throbbing around the invading mass in desperation.

The organ made his esophagus bulge, each ridge in the meat was reflected in how his throat dipped and beveled. Tears smudged his glasses so the beast before him blurred into an angry green blob. He heaved more heavily through his nostrils, but it wasn’t enough–couldn’t be enough. His lips turned cherry, the sockets around his eyes darkened and his cheeks grew darker and tinged purple.

He writhed in the vice grip of the iron binds and blood drew up to the first few layers and slickened the grip in a way that added a burn like fire to already painful wounds. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t escape.

“You know, Dib,” Zim mused in a voice impossibly deeper, practically purring, “I’ve never found your stupid face so appealing.” His grip didn’t loosen. His fingers tightened in Dib’s hair, pulled harder and harder still until the human was whining, whimpering for both oxygen and relief. “Oh,” Zim groaned, lavishing in the sounds. “Cry for me.”

Dib couldn’t help it, he had no control. His chest began to spasm, to hiccup in equal parts panic and suffocation. He was all but sobbing as he gagged around the mass.  _ I’m dying, _ he thought in utter horror.  _ Zim’s really going to kill me _ .

His throat kept contracting, tightening around the invading mass. His hips twitched with involuntary spasms. He could feel his own organs tightening, burning with anguish. 

“If you want it to end you’ll have to eat it,” Zim hissed with a high, faint whinging that sickeningly echoed his old mocking tone.

Dib’s teeth slammed together on reflex at the concept, they met the intestines like rubber. He gnashed and gnashed, felt blood squirt into his mouth and fill him with a coppery tang so bitter his body tried to heave but could do no more than it already was. He chomped and chomped but the flesh wouldn’t tear.

Then, as if struck by mercy, Dib felt a strong and sudden sharpness that burned all the way up his pipe, but it was followed by air. He collapsed to his side in the binds and gasped and choked wildly. Then the disgusting flavor on his tongue became overwhelming and he started to puke. He hadn’t eaten in some time, so it was almost all acid, but that made it so much worse.

If hell was real its fires were stomach acid rolling up a torn and sensitive throat. Dib felt all over again as if he were going to die.

“I forgot how feeble your teeth are,” Zim chuckled. “I’ll make it easier for you.” One long, metal limb emerged from Zim’s pak. It sliced back and forth and made quick work of chopping the intestines to bits.

Dib looked up through foggy lenses, but he could see enough. “Zim, wait–“ he wheezed, chest still pounding. “I don’t know what’s going on, but this is too far, even for you.” The paranormal investigator wanted his tone to sound reprimanding or imposing, but the rawness and tremor in him almost sounded like begging.

“Even for me?” Zim seemed thoughtful, then his manic grin widened. “Yes, it is. Isn’t it?”

Zim coming for him again was like something out of a nightmare. Dib could only groan in despair as he was pulled up by his hair to sit on his ass once more. “Ahh!” Dib hissed at the sensitive follicles being manhandled again. Need for oxygen had outweighed all other pain, but now he could feel the sting of his scalp intensely.

Then he was all but retching again as Zim began to force-feed him the smaller chunks. It tasted terribly of uncooked meat, which Dib supposed that was precisely what it was, but he tried not to think of it. Thinking, tasting, these things made his insides rumble and rebuke the substance. After dispelling the contents twice and being forced to reswallow with bile and all, he learned to do neither. Chewing was like working through a lump of pure fat, sickening and impossible. So he didn’t do that either. In a few short moments he was consuming pieces whole, gulping harshly around vile elements to avoid the much more imposing promise of death.

Dib was crying, something he hadn’t done under some truly horrific circumstances, but this was different. It wasn’t even the pain or humiliation, or at least not either independently. Together they were stronger, but what Dib truly wept for was the atmosphere. There was nothing about this that felt anything but  _ hopeless _ .

At last though the last bite came and Dib swallowed it down to join the lump of shame and disgust in his stomach.

Dazed and ill, Dib thought the worst was over.

“You think the worst is over don’t you, pitiful boy?” Zim laughed again, this time his voice was husky, disguising something more than rage. “But you’re wrong. There is  _ so much _ more! It turns out the only thing more repulsed by humans than Irkens are  _ other humans. _ All of your most vile crimes are propagated upon your interactions with each other. Speaking, eating,  _ touching.  _ And though I loathe the very idea of putting my glorious hands on your filthy body, I am inclined to do what is best for bringing you the most torment.”

Dib was still panting, still fighting back the urge to hurl, and Zim’s threats made very little sense. “What?”

Then those spider legs were out and they shredded Dib’s clothes like the fragile wrapping paper of an Xmas gift. The boy was left bound and exposed, unable to even cover his shame.

“What the heck, Zim!?” Dib shouted with renewed strength.

Zim dropped down to his knees so they were face to face and wrapped his gloved fingers around Dib’s soft shaft. “Such a filthy worm,” he snickered. “I see why you wouldn’t want it handled.”

“Oh! No! Zim, stop!” Dib’s voice was chiding at first, as if addressing a child with its hand in the cookie jar, but his tone quickly took on a higher octave. “Please!”

“Beg all you want.” Zim’s hand began to stroke up and down in what seemed like a practiced gesture. The grip was a little too tight, the leather a little too rough, but despite it all Dib started to stiffen. Now the blood flooding his features was brought on by something other than suffocation.

Dib squirmed but where the metal ropes dug in still ached and he could do no more but scoot, a futile effort since Zim simply followed or yanked in retaliation. “Please,” he started to whine, breath coming in rasps. “Nnn, Zim.”

“Yes, human. Whine with agony!”

Dib’s own hot exhales further obscured his vision, but seeing Zim’s face only would have made it more humiliating. The only upside was Zim’s ignorance peeking through once more, it brought an air of comfortable familiarity that did nothing to ebb the different ache that was now racing around between Dib’s thighs and nesting in his lower stomach to churn awkwardly with the human meel. “Hahn, Ziiim–“ 

He was getting dizzy with cock hard and stomach sick, head spiraling.

“Yes, tremble, Dib! Quake with defeat. I’m going to break you, make it swell and erupt!” 

_ Oh, god, _ Dib thought with foggy shame.  _ He sounds so good. He’s going to make me cum. _

Zim’s grip weakened a touch when he felt a shiver run up the stiff human’s meat stick and a new expression fell on Dib’s features. He’d never seen the boy so flush, so breathless, so weak. Dib’s brows were woven, the tendons in his neck tight, while his jaw was slack. There was still spittle on his lips that made them shine and Zim found he liked it. 

In a moment of hesitation, Zim saw vulnerability in his rival and it settled like a salve on his savaged nerves. 

“Z-zim,” Dib said, and it was needy and pleading.

The Irken’s center clamored and he felt something deep and primal–and he decided he hated the human more for it. Remembering his rage, he released the prick and instead took hold of Dib with his spider limbs and abruptly slammed the boy face-down on the ground.

“Nagh! What! Ow! Zim!” Dib shouted in pain against the gritty lab floor.

Then as quickly as he’d dropped him, Zim used the metal extensions to lift the boy once more, as if to shake him up, but instead he held him aloft in two legs wedged like pinchers. Then he used two more to push himself upward.

“You’ll pay for your insolence, human,” growled Zim. He drew back one leg, held up Dib by one folded around him, and pressed the dagger-like tip between the globes of Dib’s bared ass.

Feeling the ominous chill and the sharp prick of the point against his skin, Dib all but screamed. “Wait! Zim, please, you can’t! Don’t do this! Don’t–“

Zim fed on the pleas and began to press the tip of the metal into Dib’s puckered entrance. He went slow at first, reveled in the slow whine and high keening of the violated human. The limb got thicker as it went along so it slowly pulled Dib apart as it slid in. Red pearls of blood started to dribble down the shaft and the more Dib fidgeted with pain, the more frequent the flow became.

Real, fresh tears painted Dib’s cheeks and all signs of pleasure had left him. He started to hiccup from the stabbing, stretching sensations. He curled forward in the only way he could, stomach muscles twitching and flinching as he tried to go fetal around the metal bar holding him in place. “Zim,” he begged pitifully. “It hurts!”

He couldn’t see Zim’s sour smile turn to a grimace. “Not yet.” 

Then the only thing worse than the limb plunging occured. It drew back like a sword leaving a death wound and blood squelched from Dib’s bruising opening. “Ahhh!” His head tossed back, red raced up his chest in a festival of exploding capillaries.

Then the dagger dove back in. Dib’s pupils blew out to the size of saucers, his arms twitched painfully in their binds, his tied legs thrashed as one, trying to kick or part. 

Back out and in again to the sound of screams so rich and plenty they would be burned into the Irken’s mind forever. Blood spilled like a lifetime of discourse tipping the scales free of marbles. It squirted in the way the alien had only seen in films, spouting like fountains from some unseen jets. It rained beautiful, dappling everything in hot, slick victory with every violent, slamming pulse of his limbs into Dib’s helpless body.

The human contorted, much like a dying insect, and howled and sobbed and twitched with a desperation that was genuinely elegant. 

Thick drops of creamy explosion spilled from Dib’s crown unbidden as his prostate was torn asunder. He was numb by that point, unable to feel anything but a dull ache up his spine. He was feintly aware of the blood and saliva pooling from his quivering lips. His vision was blurred from glasses knocked free to shatter on the floor far below. Dib all but mewled for mercy as he was fucked apart.

Dib was trembling as the metal worked faster, stabbing in and out viciously, knowing the effect was more violent than his original intention. Zim was quivering now too and one more titillating curve of Dib’s spine brought a sensation revolting enough for him to drop the human listless to the floor to splash in the ocean of his own blood and semen.

Dib’s body wasn’t red anymore. In fact, it was almost totally devoid of color. Even his hair looked desaturated, but perhaps that was just the contrast of the ruby puddle against pale flesh in the shades of darkness.

His breathing was shallow, will void.

“Serves you right for doubting me,” whispered Zim. He turned, paused only to listen to Dib’s last whimper for help, and retreated back to the elevator. “The tallest will regret it all the more.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> There are probably still a bunch of mistakes in this, but I wrote it fast so I'll fix it later (maybe). I never thought I'd write a truly dark fic for this pairing because it always struck me as out of character for the series (since dark humor is the show's very nature), but I'm satisfied enough with the results. By the way, if you're curious what a growling Zim would sound like, just watch that teaser for Enter the Florpus that was released a year or two back [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wMnV_eL-D7w]. It's the sound of Richard Horvitz destroying a thousand ovaries at once (or just mine?)
> 
> The title of this fiction has nothing to do with anything. Let me know what you thought in the comments! And please look forward to more random one-shots as I stumble my way through October.


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